8 OF 8
THE
AVOCADO BRAVADO DESPERADO AFFAIR
There is a lot of mundane, dull work to be done in
shops. It has to be tackled but it is
hardly challenging to the brain cells a lot of the time. You know the kind of boring stuff – walking
round being Mr Happy, smiling at people you do not like, checking the cleaning,
picking up litter and squashed grapes, filling shelves, telling people off,
listening to customers complaining about the price of fish or a wonky trolley. Sometimes, a new experience makes the day
more exciting. The lady with the two
avocado pears is a hard case to beat.
She asked to see me in private, as she was prone to burst into tears at
any moment because of the trauma I had caused her. She catered at home for her husband’s
business clients and, the previous weekend, had settled on an avocado and prawn
starter. She bought the pears from my
shop. But when she peeled them, both
were mottled brown inside. She explained
emotionally that these two small, crinkly items had destroyed her confidence in
the kitchen. In short, she panicked at
the dinner party and opened a tin of soup – the indignity of serving
cock-a-leekie as her husband was about to clinch a deal had left her scarred,
embarrassed and inadequate. Her ego had
been casseroled by this appalling incident.
Our discussion was like a therapy session and when I asked how best to
resolve it for her, quick as a flash she perked up and said: “Each dinner party
costs me £75, so if you pay me £75, that will do.” My excuse is that I was too taken aback to
disagree. I still wince when I think of
the two most expensive avocado pears in history but The Avocado Bravado
Desperado Affair is a lesson for all shop managers to reassess the fruits of
their labours, to tolerate crab-apple customers, to avoid sour grapes and to
admit defeat when you know you’ve been mangoed.
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